


After

by Ingonyama



Category: Resident Evil - All Media Types, X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Crossover, Fluff and Angst, Last Men on Earth, M/M, Nudity, Post-Apocalypse, Road Trips, UST, that will be resolved
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-03-19 01:49:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13694346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ingonyama/pseuds/Ingonyama
Summary: Something happened to the world, and they're alone. They have been for years. So why is this last human connection so hard to forge?





	1. Lonely, But Not Alone

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally part of my thirty-chaper "Logan Is A Manslut" series, but I decided ultimately that it killed the mood for future chapters and would be impossible to keep to one story without following up on. 
> 
> So here you go. I hope to add more to it in the future.

"So, where'd this guy say to meet again?" Logan asked, wiping his forehead with a muscular, bare arm. It was a hot day for October...too hot for Logan to be bothered with clothes other than his well-worn hiking boots. Everything he owned -- everything he cared to carry with him, anyway -- was in the duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

Not like anyone but Chris was there -- or anywhere -- to see him naked anyway.

They were at the city limits, or so the sign, NOW ENTERING RACCOON CITY, told them.

Raccoon City itself was dead silent, just like Minneapolis, St. Louis, Cheyenne, Las Vegas, San Francisco, and LA had been. Logan didn't know what he'd expected the end of the world to look like -- indeed, he'd never figured on living long enough to see it -- but it wasn't this.

He didn't know what had happened -- why almost everyone else on Earth had just evaporated. Friends, enemies, acquaintances, fuckbuddies -- everyone Logan had ever known, loved, hated, and lusted after was just gone in the blink of an eye.

That had been five years ago.

The strange thing was, in those five years, nothing had happened to the world itself. The cities still glowed brightly at night and worked during the day. Faucets and toilets still worked. Restaurants and bakeries all over were still stocked with fresh food, nothing went bad. Power plants still worked, city power grids were unaffected by either the disappearance of all their workers or the passage of time spent unsupervised. There had been no meltdowns, no explosions, no blackouts. TV and radio stations still broadcast shows on a regular schedule -- no new programming, obviously, but reruns of everything that had ever aired were available, provided you knew what channel to look on. The Internet still worked -- not that it did much, since no one ever got online anymore. Logan's cell phone still got crystal-clear reception, even though there was no one left to call. Even light bulbs didn't burn out anymore. All technological entropy had come to a full and complete stop, along with humanity.

The end of the world had come, and it was like the world didn't notice.

"The e-mail said to go to D.A;'s Place," Chris said, answering his earlier question. "We'll head for it once we get into the city."

There were pockets of survivors here and there -- people who hadn't disappeared -- but no one who could ever explain anything that had happened, or why they had lived while everyone around them had vanished. Chris Redfield was one of those survivors, an ex-cop with more than a little experience with weirdness himself -- though nothing on this scale -- and that was all Logan knew about him.

"Raccoon City, huh?" Logan said, looking up at the sign. "Didn't you say somethin' about bein' from here?"

"It's where I was a cop," Chris said, _starting_ down the highway purposefully. "Before I joined the BSAA." He looked Logan up and down. "You gonna meet our contact like that?"

"LIke what?"

Chris gestured to his unclad state. "I mean, I don't really care..." he blushed, "I kinda like it, actually...but we don't know who we're meeting. First impressions and stuff, you know."

"Ya think I should grab somethin' off a rack in town?" the mutant chuckled sardonically. "Ya think I'm an Armani, St. Laurent, Visvim kinda guy?"

"How about Jeans and a t-shirt from Target?" Chris retorted. "Or, I dunno, anything?"

Logan shrugged. "Maybe. Meantime, let's find a hotel or somethin' ta crash in till tomorrow. We been walkin' all day, an' I need ta shower somethin' fierce." He eyed Chris' body appreciatively, the special agent clad in his tight standard-issue BSAA shirt and cargo pants that, strangely, didn't do much to conceal either his bulge or the shape of his ass.

Chris' blush deepened.

~*~

They'd gotten breaking into hotel rooms down to a science by now -- not that it was hard at this point. Simply walk behind the desk, pick up a keycard, and find the floor and the door. Maybe hit up the kitchen for some room-service food, if they didn't feel like going out to pick up dinner. The do-it-yourself life that had replaced what came before was much more convenient, Logan had to admit.

_Doesn't mean I wouldn't trade it in a fuckin' heartbeat t'see Kurt again...or M'iko, or Petey, or Hank, Jeannie, Rems, 'Ro, Steve, Herc, Thor...hell, I'd even be happy to see Slim's one-eyed face again._

Logan, once infamous as the X-Men's token loner, felt the loneliness creep up on him as he looked out the window at the glowing, empty city, listening to Redfield take his shower. Chris was a decent guy, the same kind of true-blue hero as Steve or Scott -- that was why he'd volunteered to travel with Logan, to find out what had happened to everyone -- but he just didn't know him that well. It wasn't the same as having his team -- his friends, his family -- around with him. But it was all he had.

Chris came out in his towel. "All yours," he said. "I'm gonna find the laundry room and finish cleaning up." He indicated his uniform, sweaty and musky with the wear and tear of travel. Logan found himself smiling slightly as he headed for the shower -- even now, when there was no one around to see him but Logan, the cop still had a sense of modesty about himself.

He climbed into the shower and turned the water on, setting it to the cool "summertime waterfall in the Canadian Rockies" setting he liked. While before he would have used the opportunity to stroke one out, Logan felt no drive or inclination to do so now. Even though now he could practically jack off whenever he wanted, wherever he wanted, consequence-free, his once-legendary libido had just...stopped.

Even flirting with Chris was more out of habit than anything. Logan knew Redfield wanted him, liked seeing him naked. He also knew Chris was too nice to make the first move.

All Logan had to do was hint that he wanted him, and the soldier would be on him at speeds that'd put Jean-Paul to shame. He knew it.

So why didn't he?

Even with a hunk like Chris around, Logan simply didn't get aroused anymore. Too many of his old fuckbuddies drifted through his imagination whenever he tried. The feral was no stranger to ghosts, but what were you supposed to do when everyone you'd ever known had become one?

He breathed a deep sigh, with far more shudder in it than he liked, and kept staring morosely at the tiles in front of him, letting the hot spray hit him without really feeling it.

~*~

He didn't know how long he'd stood there when he felt a hand on his back. "Logan?"

Looking up, he saw Chris standing before him, still naked, blue eyes deep with concern.

Chris helped Logan out of the shower and dried him off, despite his half-hearted protests that he could do it himself.

"I get it, you know." Chris said finally, when the two were in bed together. Neither of them had said anything, just crawled under the covers and spooned together, Chris holding the smaller, older man in his arms from behind. "I think about them all the time. My sister, my team, the rest of the BSAA. I wonder if they're really dead, or if they were just taken somewhere with everyone else. I call their numbers on my cell from time to time, just to listen to their voicemail."

"I've lost buddies before," Logan said. "When ya been around as long as I have, lived the life I have, it comes with the territory. But this is diff'rent. This is..."

"Everyone." Chris finished for him, and Logan nodded. "And it makes you wonder: why me?"

"I used t'work at a school," Logan said, ignoring Chris's look of surprise. He knew he didn't seem like the teacher type. "A lotta good kids there, smart, tough, brave. Kids who deserved t'live their lives, a lot more than me."

"...I'm sorry," Chris said finally, in a voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't know." His arms tightened around Logan some more.

Logan wanted to shake him off, to tell him he didn't want his pity. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. So he just held on to Chris' arms and let himself take comfort in the presence of another human being, even a man he barely knew.

It was better than nothing.

~TO BE CONTINUED~


	2. Abandoned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before they meet the only other person alive in the world, Chris has to make Logan presentable.

"Logan, you have to put _something_ on."

Now that they were in Raccoon City proper, about to go meet their mystery contact, Redfield had gotten a stubborn streak. Logan was _going_ to be dressed when they met this person, even if Chris had to knock him out and force him into some clothes.He respected the man, felt horrible for what he had lost, but this was another survivor, the first in and even if Chris himself didn't mind... _really_ didn't mind...he didn't know how his contact would react.

_Two people are company. Three's a crowd, a society even, and that means social norms._

Logan didn't care enough to press the issue...honestly, the whole reason he went naked was _because_ he didn't care. It was hard to explain the concept of giving up to someone who didn't seem to know what that meant.

Logan didn't grumble, or mutter under his breath, or even sigh. His slumped shoulders were the only sign of his capitulation. "FIne,"

~*~

For Logan, choosing to bother with clothes...or any consideration for his appearance past basic hygiene...had always been a struggle, more so now that everyone whose opinion he might have cared about was gone.

_Well. Almost everyone._

On the other hand, acquiring them wasn't really a problem. Unsurprisingly, Chris disapproved of just smashing a storefront window in and taking what they needed 'like some kind of goddamn looters' -- never mind that in an empty city, on an empty planet, there was really no one around to judge.

Chris' morals dictated some strange things. The two of them could break into hotel rooms for a night, or take from stores when they needed food. Everything was so perfectly maintained that it almost felt like these were still places of business, just without anyone to man them. Without people, there was no need to worry about money, they could just walk in, take what they needed, and walk out. It might have even been fun, liberating in a way, if Logan didn't look at the unmanned registers and find himself imagining someone vanishing from them the way his family had vanished.

If Logan had been alone, he might have been more direct. But Chris was the only company Logan had...until yesterday, the only comany he thought he'd  _ever_ have...so the mutant compromised with the ex-cop by choosing instead to break into a clothing store _non_ -destructively.

_Remy coulda done this better,_ he admitted to himself as he sliced through the lock on the door to the nearest shop. Though neither of them batted an eye at the rainbow flag hanging outside, Chris had rolled his eyes at the sight of the store sign: a man in leather pants and a harness with his arms folded, looking at the street through shads and a lascivious, bearded smirk.

When Chris asked if Logan had known what kind of place it was, it had been the mutant's turn to roll his eyes. "Redfield, I was at the Stonewall when that drag queen first threw her shoe at a cop like she was in fuckin' _Nutcracker_."

"Wait," Chris stared at him. "Seriously?!"

Logan stared back. "I know what a leather store is," he said, and marched in without elaborating further.

The store was small, but well stocked. _A real Pop 'n Pop_   _joint,_ Logan thought, and surprised himself with a snort of what could almost be considered laughter. Fortunately for him, it specialized in all manner of fetish clothing. Most of it, if you saw someone wearing it on the steet, could be mistaken for everyday apparel. Flannel shirts, Day-Glo vests, hard hats, baseball caps, tight tank tops in every color, functional wrestling singlets, well-made leather gloves and boots, and even underwear that was more than just skimpy jockstraps or thongs _. Good,_  he thought.  _I ain't in the mood t'look like I'm goin' to a street fair._

There would be no more street fairs. The bitter knowledge bubbled at the back of his mind like acid. 

_~*~_

At first, Chris wondered if they'd juse walked into a regular men's clothing store. Everything Logan was loking at seemed so...normal.Then he saw the back walls, with row after row of dildoes, vibrators and fleshjacks, and realized he was right the first time.

At first he was embarrassed, wanting to get the hell out of there. But something in him made him stay, made him look at the cuffs and restraints, the masks and hoods, gags, whips, riding crops, and more different varieties of lube than Chris thought existed in the world.

There was just so much of it. _This place may have been small,_ he thought, _but it didn't cater to a small clientele._ There was a whole neighborhood's worth of stock here, offering the resources to cater to all manner of kinks for all manner of people.

And now they were all gone.

This stuff would sit on its shelf, never collecting dust, never decaying or rotting, but never being taken out, never unpackaged or used as it was intended. The shop would never close, never decay, but it would also never sell anything again. It would never look it, but it was abandoned.

The whole world was abandoned.

Chris dashed a tear from his eyes. "You find anything yet?" he asked Logan in a voice that, miraculously, only cracked a little bit.

Logan came out from the racks, and Chris tried not to stare too hard. A yellow undershirt...Chris thought it was an undershirt, though he couldn't be sure...underneath an open, dark orange-and-brown flannel shirt and a pair of blue jeans ripped along the thighs in an "artful" fashion. Black motorcycle boots replaced his worn brown ones, and he wore a pair of matching, fingerless gloves to complete the ensemble. Slung over his shoulder was a black leather jacket. Everything hugged his figure, almost looked painted-on, but he seemed perfectly at ease in it, his movement seemingly unimpreded. _Like looking at James Dean,_ Chris thought, _if he'd lived long enough to age gracefully._

At some point, Chris became aware that he was staring. Worse, so did Logan. "This was all I could find that fit," the feral said gruffly. "You wanna get some new threads too, or can we go now?"

Chris swallowed, and nodded. "I'll...Ill go somewhere else if I need new clothes," he said. "This stuff...well, it's not exactly me."

Logan smirked at that. "Never know till ya try," he replied. Chris had no idea how to respond to that.

"Come on," Logan finally said, striding past the ex-cop and out the door. "Yer buddy's waitin'."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this was sitting unfinished in my 'Drafts' for months before I finally decided to tack something on. There's not much to tell in this chapter, just enough that y'all know I've not forgotten it and I AM going to keep working on it.
> 
> I'll level with you: I don't really have a concrete outline for this story. It literally comes to me as I write. I've got an idea for the next chapter (including what 'D.A.'s Place' actually is) , but past that, only the bare minimum of an idea for the rough shape of the story. But I'm trying to be more productive in my general story output overall, even if it means bouncing from story to story. 
> 
> Fans of this fic, watch this space, because it's not done yet. Thanks for being patient with me.


End file.
